Twas the Night Before Christmas The Hour BBC
by GeneFlowers
Summary: The Hour BBC fanfic. It's the night before Christmas and Freddie and Bel are out for their traditional Christmas Eve drinks. Wonder what will come up in their conversation...


**So...As my obsession with 'The Hour' is pretty much never-ending at the moment, and I'M GETTING IT ON DVD FOR CHRISTMAS (Sorry, but that required capital letters), I decided to write a Christmassy Hour fanfic. Normal service will resume on my main fic sometime in the hopefully not too distant future (I've written most of the next chapter AND typed it up, but unfortunately it's saved on the laptop, which broke down a few weeks ago. -.- Although hopefully *crosses fingers* we should get it back today. *touches wood*).**

**So anyway, Christmas inspiration struck me on Monday, and this is the result. I mean to do a second chapter (which takes place on Christmas day) but haven't quite got round to it yet. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hour or any of its characters, and write this story for no discernible material gain, but simply the pleasure it gives me.**

**This story is dedicated to my best friend Lucy, who I love way past Pluto (her cat), and Pluto (the planet. It is a planet, I swear) to Jazzola (who WILL be reading this once I've introduced her to the wonders of The Hour, or there will be trouble) and to the kind reviewers who have reviewed my other Hour fanfic. Your reviews make my day! (Hint hint)**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

_Twas the night before Christmas_

_And all through the house_

_Not a creature was stirring_

_Not even a mouse._

Christmas. Freddie usually felt quite cheerful about Christmas. But this year would be different. This year would be the first year he and his father would spend Christmas alone. Freddie closed his eyes, sitting in the leather bench in the bar he and Bel had come to for their traditional Christmas Eve drinks.

"You all right?" asked Bel, setting their drinks down on the table as she slid in to sit beside Freddie.

Nodding through the first mouthful of his drink, Freddie swallowed and said 'Fine,' setting his glass down on the solid oak table with a slight bump. Bel turned to look at him - his eyes were averted, looking down into the swirling depths of his mulled wine, and his body was hunched over, defensive.

"Freddie..." she said, touching his clenched hand. He slowly raised his eyes from her hand on his to her face, eyes sparkling in the Christmassy lights.

"It's just..." he turned away from her and withdrew his hand to pick up his drink, taking another sip of wine before continuing. "It's our first Christmas alone without my mother, and my father, well, he's...he's not...you know..." Bel nodded sympathetically. "..and all this business with Clarence...well, I don't exactly feel in the Christmas spirit."

"Oh, Freddie..." said Bel, leaning her arm on Freddie's shoulder and threading her fingers through his hair. Freddie sighed and stretched, arching upwards. Bel sighed too, and said "I can still come to yours, if you like. Like last year..." she tailed off, smiling fondly.

Freddie grinned too, but shook his head. "No. You promised to spend Christmas with your mother, and you're right to. Christmas is a time for family," he said, smiling sadly.

Bel nodded, taking a sip of wine. "You're right, you're right." Suddenly a thought struck her. "We could come over to yours! Or you and your father could come to my apartment - then at least you'd get a half-decent Christmas dinner!"

Freddie snorted. "But...your mother hates me!" he said, perfectly amiably.

"She does not!"

"She does! She calls me a Bolshevik!"

"Well, okay...but it's an affectionate hatred."

Freddie laughed quietly and laid his hand on her arm. "Bel - no. We'll be fine." He smiled, looking into her eyes.

"Are you sure, Freddie?" she asked, still concerned.

"Yes. Now forget I ever asked." He removed his hand from her arm, but not before leaving it on there a little longer than necessary, dragging his fingers over the soft, smooth material of her sleeve. Her eyes followed his thin fingers as they lingered over her arm, then turned slowly to his face, as she said "You know...if it's any consolation...I would much rather spend it with you."

Freddie blinked rapidly several times, and tried to keep the tremble out of his voice as he said "That - means more to me than you will ever know, Moneypenny."

Mirror images of each other, with each's arm draped along the back of the leather seat, they stared into each other's eyes for several long, comfortable moments, brown eyes alternately drowning and sailing in blue, before the cosy, muffled quiet was interrupted by a waiter entering the room with a large bunch of flowers clutched in his arm. Sweat poured down his face as he shouted "Miss Rowley? Is there a Miss Rowley in here?" Freddie raised his eyebrows as Bel said "Yes?"

"These are for you," the waiter said, scowling, as if no one should take _his _time up giving flowers to girls. He shoved them in her arms and stalked away, sniffing didainfully.

Freddie finished laughing at the snobbery of the waiting class, and turned to Bel, his expression turning suddenly more serious. "Who're they from - another banker?" he asked sarcastically.

"No," she said, as if the very idea was abhorrent to her. Then she said "Well - not exactly."

Freddie rolled his eyes. "Well, the details of your sordid love life don't interest me." What a lie that was. "Although you should tell him - whoever he is - violets are even worse than orchids. And they smell terrible. Like old ladies' knicker drawers."

Bel laughed loudly. "Oh Freddie, you are awful."

Freddie looked absurdly pleased with himself. "So why aren't you spending tonight with him?" Freddie asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Because I'd rather spend it with you," she smiled, patting his shoulder.

"Really?" questioned Freddie flatly, disbelievingly. trying not to show what a thrill her words had just sent racing through his entire body.

"Really."

"Well, I'm flattered, Moneypenny," He raised his glass, looking a lot more cheerful than he had done when they had arrived. "Merry Christmas." he said, his words echoed by Bel as she clinked her glass against his.

"Merry Christmas."

They lapsed into another comfortable silence, Freddie leaning back and swilling the wine in his glass. "Bel..." he stopped, tipping the wine down his throat.

"Mmmm?" asked Bel, contentedly.

Freddie shook his head, mouth still full of alcohol, then swallowed. "Doesn't matter."

"No, tell me..." Bel asked pleadingly, laying a hand on his upper arm.

"It's just...you have all these suitors, but..."

"Yes?" Bel asked, looking amused. Freddie fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, growing more and more embarassed and awkward under her gaze.

"...have you ever...have you ever, you know...been in love?" he mumbled this last, growing steadily redder and quieter as he went on, until he wished the ground would swallow him up.

Oh Freddie, thought Bel. She felt her own face growing redder. She shook her head, not bothering to check if he was looking. When he did look up, he imitated her, shaking his head, but in disbelief.

"What?" she said.

He carried on shaking his head. "I just - can't believe - how many men have fallen in love with you again?"

Bel blushed. She was stuck for words, and it wasn't often that happened. "Well - it's not as if - as if I can!"

Freddie shook his head in incomprehension. "What do you mean, 'not as if I can'?" Freddie thundered, gesticulating madly. "You can't - you can't help falling in love! You don't choose to! And you can't stop it. Believe me, I've tried!" Their eyes met mid-speech and Freddie heard Bel's sharp intake of breath.

"You're in love?" she asked, eyes widening. They had known each other for four years. _Four years. _How had they never discussed this before?

"No - yes - I didn't mean it like that!" protested Freddie, wishing he'd never spoken.

"With whom?" asked Bel, urgently.

"Does it matter?" he asked, pain creasing his face.

"Yes!" cried Bel, gripping his knee. There were noises of protest from the neighbouring table, but she ignored them. "Yes, of course it matters! I'm your best friend, you're supposed to tell me everything. Especially important things like this!"

Oh, that old chestnut, thought Freddie. "It's no one you know," he said, shaking his head. Liar.

"Oh," said Bel, finally dropping the subject. "Well, you'll have to introduce me." Freddie closed his eyes at the irony. "Whoever she is, she would be very lucky to have you." For a split second, a look of pure and intense agony flitted across Freddie's face, then he cleared his throat, and changed the subject.

"Well...it's getting on a bit, and I had better go and check on _mon papa _before I turn in for the night," he said briskly, draining the last dregs of his wine glass. "Want me to walk you home?"

The question hung in the air - to anyone else, it would have sounded perfectly normal, but Bel picked up the slight strain in his voice, and knew that he wanted to get away from here - away from her - as quickly as possible.

"No - it's fine, I'll manage," said Bel, slightly hurt.

"Well, if you're sure," said Freddie, standing up, looking slightly guilty. Bel's heart melted - he looked like a child who had just been caught stealing from the biscuit tin. He turned to walk away, then twisted back again, like he had forgotten something. "Oh, and Bel, by the way," he said, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Freddie," Bel smiled, and he dared to bend down and press a tentative, feather-light kiss on her lips.

"Merry Christmas," he repeated, whispering, and strolled out into the cold, snow-flecked night.

**Hope you enjoyed! Please review, mince pies to everyone who does! :)**


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